Kong: Skull Island ★★★★½

So, maybe you're hotboxing a car in the mid-to-late-afternoon in some semi-deserted parking lot listening to say, Houses Of The Holy again again or Live At Budokan possibly as a backup choice when Houses Of The Holy again again again is one too many agains and it isn't the first time you've hotboxed a car listening to Houses Of The Holy again again for sure and as the atmosphere inside the car gets superthick and the ambient temperature inside the car gets to greater and greater variance to the ambient temperature outside the car and the sunlight through the windows gets filtered and partially blocked by all of the particulate matter suspended in the air eventually it becomes time (whatever THAT is) to open the car door and step outside and even though you have stepped out of a car before it certainly doesn't seem like it, like this is the first time it has ever happened and the afternoon sun is far brighter than remembered and the ground is weirdly elastic which seems different than when you stepped into the car and this is strangely funny, maybe it is so funny that it causes spontaneous laughter for just that reason but if and when you are asked what exactly you are laughing at, it becomes impossible to explain. I love Kong: Skull Island. Psychedelic Kaiju movies are the best. From Godzilla Vs. Hedorah to the prismatically jeweled early nineties Godzilla/Mothra films, kaiju movies that express wonder and delight and laughter at how weird all of this is because it is totally weird are my heart-of-heart favorites and Kong: Skull Island more than earns a place on that list, not the least for being a tossed-off cover of Apocalypse Now as delivered by an after-hours bar band jamming all the stuff they can remember at the moment from that movie together hideggly-piggedly when there is no one left in the bar but it isn't time to go home yet. Muzzy and woozy with an air of time and riffs stretched and suspended, unafraid to be stupid or ridiculous just because, because it feels like it, because who knows who is watching or when or how. I grew up seeing advertisements for the 1976 Dino De Laurentis King Kong on the back covers of comic books well before I ever saw that movie even though I really wanted to and Kong: Skull Island is in addition to everything else a smushed valentine carried around in a pocket for 40 years before getting unfolded and barely smoothed out prior to presentation. I love it even more for this, as if it too dreamt of what a woolly and weird post-hippie post-Watergate Kong film might be and this dream metamorphosed underground in larval stage until emerging with iridescent wings glistening in the bright afternoon sun and I am totally going off into Mothra territory here because I love Mothra the best and I can't help myself but maybe the ground feels strange and unearthly and undiscovered because we were meant to fly but haven't figured out how yet.

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